National Pink Day
by Roriette
Summary: Because damn it, he doesn't have the hots for Natsu Dragneel. Even if his socks might have the exact same shade as his flamingo hair. Even if he finds his scarf a little dashingly fashionable. He's still definitely - probably - not gay. Shit.


**Rori's Corner: **I decided to try something different, and here's what I came up with. Inspired by the pink shirt kissing prank on youtube. It's cute. Sting is cute. Natsu is cute. Together, they are the cuties. Hehe.

**Warning: **lotsa lotsa language and maybeh some hot scenes gehee.

* * *

National Pink Day

_cause real men wear pink_

* * *

"You like him."

There goes Rogue making those dubious claims again.

"I don't."

"I'm the last one for you to try your pitiful lying skills on."

"I'm not _gay_."

Rogue goes quiet. Probably mentally laughing at me, because he's too cool to laugh out loud. I'm used to his silent moments, anyhow. Usually, at the end of his brooding phase, he'd come out and say something ridiculous like -

"Why are you stalking him, then?"

I spew out the fizzing cold drink from my mouth. The sticky, carbonated beverage splats on the concrete wall and coats it with a sizzling brown foam. I wipe away the spluttered drizzles of the coke from my face with my arm and groan, "_Dude_."

My antisocial, brooding, but somehow surprisingly popular childhood friend - not as popular as me, of course - leans against the wall on my left, his dark, almost crimson, eyes following the path of my gaze out the window of the second floor hallway and down to the grassy courtyard down below. Directly beneath the open window is a view of the rainbow spring tree and a figure lying down underneath it. The figure appears to be taking an afternoon nap, light snores drowned out by an occasional breeze.

I can feel the skeptical air radiating from Rogue even without a vocal announcement accompanying it. "I'm not," I mutter under my breath, before he says anything.

"Hmm..." he hums, nodding his head slightly. Unconvinced.

"I just admire his game record. He does crazy slam dunks and quick rebounds."

Rogue remains silent.

"And his fashion sense."

"We have uniforms," he informs smartly.

"His scarf."

He has no response to that, but the still skeptical look in his solemn expression screams his disbelief.

"Trust me, man, I'm not gay," I snort, waving my hand at him dismissively. "Plus," I decide to add, "if I like him, which I obviously _don't_, then you like Gajeel." Turning my head sideways to give him the best angled shot of my trademarked Victory Smirk, I'm met with a shocking sight that has me nearly dropping the drink in my hand. "No...way," I kind of just gasp-utter in a breathy tone, because I don't think I've ever seen Rogue _blush_ before.

Well, I'm speechless.

He quickly turns around, the back of the white uniform facing me. I can barely hold back the stunned laughter creeping up my throat. But I find the unbelievable idea of Rogue's crush on that iron-obsessed a little too much of a joke, and a definite too much of funny, so I end up cackling anyway. I see the tips of Rogue's ears turn red, and start to feel a little bad.

That's probably why I end up laughing harder, doubled over with my hand clutching at my sore stomach. "W-what, AHAHAHA, seriously?!" I manage to heave somehow in between my laughing fit. "I was just kidding, but, HAHAHA, that's great. Just - "

"Don't laugh." Rogue interrupts, facing me again, but this time with a composed, brooding face, and an annoyed look in his dark eyes. My laughter fading, I lean out on the window sill with a hand cupping my cheek, grinning, chuckling whenever the unforgettable image of his usually pale, stoic face blushing pops up in my head. That's cute. In a funny way. And I don't always associate Rogue with funny. "And _don't_ say anything. Especially to Gajeel-san."

"That's some surprising shit, though," I remark, my voice hoarse from all that laughing earlier. It's going on my top ten funny moments, seriously. "But, I won't say anything. Not my place to," I promise him. He _is_ my only longtime friend. But he sure chooses the best guy to have the hots for, I'll give him that. But I guess it's not really surprising, the more I think about it. He's always going to those suspicious underground wrestling rings where Gajeel fights.

Rogue stays silent for the rest of the lunch period, sitting on the yellow linoleum floor with his back against the wall, as I spend the remaining recess doing my daily watch on the sleeping figure below. Towards the end of the break, I feel a nagging something in a little corner of my mind, and somehow I end up blurting, "Why don't you just confess to him?"

"..."

"Not like you've got much to lose," I reason. Gajeel Redfox's not exactly the cream of the crop in the trimonthly _Boys I'd Like to Boyfriend _ranking here in Fiore. That is, he's not even listed. He's got a pretty bad rep, too. On the other hand, I've been head to head with some Hibiki guy for first place, or so I've been hearing. A few beats later, and still no response from Rogue, expectedly, I take it that he's not exactly thrilled with the prospect of getting his ass beat by the iron-obsessed delinquent. At least, that's what I was thinking, but then Rogue does the unexpected, for the second time, today.

"It's National Pink Day," he announces, out of the blue.

I glance at him inquisitively, the look pretty much telepathically delivering my sarcastic thought: _And_?

"If you confess to Natsu-san, I'll confess to Gajeel-san."

_What_.

I spin around quick as lightning, staring at Rogue's undeterred, sullen face with wide eyes. The drink in my hand slips and falls out the window, landing with a thump somewhere. I hear a pained cry and a few curses from below, but my attention is on my crazy friend. "If I...do what, you'll...do what?" I ask slowly. He's not serious about this...is he?

But I know, having been in the Cheney household enough times to know where Rogue's cat Frosh hides his stash of shiny things behind the toilet - not even his _parents_ know where those shiny accessories go -, the Cheneys don't joke. Neither does Rogue. I should say, _especially_ not Rogue.

"You're fucking serious," is what I end up uttering, shocked and all, two seconds later.

Rogue's black-turned-crimson-red eyes look at me with a firm, determined stare. He nods.

All right, he's definitely serious.

But...

"What does 'National Pink Day' have to do with anything?" I have to know.

He shrugs one shoulder. "Tomorrow's National Black Day," he says, if that explains everything.

Well, that explained jack shit. But because I'm really curious, and _not_ because I have the hots for Natsu Dragneel, I think I might do it. Just for the hell of it. You only live once, hash tag yolo, y'know? And so:

"Pound it," I say, holding out my hand and clenching it.

A second's hesitation is all it takes, and then Rogue bumps his fist against mine.

I smirk, and he nods.

Let's see what happens.

* * *

National Pink Day. Hell is that supposed to mean? Is today _really_ National Pink Day? Whose screws got so loose that they needed to make a day for the color pink? Well, whatever. I'll test it out.

"Hey," I say, reaching out and grabbing a random girl's arm as she's walking past me to the library. "What day is today?"

She looks at me and stutters out something along the lines of: "I-i-i-it's N-National P-Pink Day, S-S-Sting-sama." She's got pink shoes.

I have pink socks. Well, whadaya know. This just might work out.

"Is there some rule that goes with the day?" I ask, curious because Rogue always has a reason for something or another.

The girl with the pink shoes now has a pink face. "U-um," she starts, and then the rest of her words jumble together in one quiet monologue.

"Sorry, can't hear you. Repeat?"

"Um! R-rumors say that y-you're supposed to k-k-k-k-kiss whoever's wearing p-pink if you're also wearing pink. N-not that you have to, of course!"

"That so? Cool. Thanks," I say, letting her go.

She bows and stumbles away.

And then I remember something else. "Wait!" I call after her. "If today's pink, then what's National Black Day about?"

Her face is literally steaming at this point. She might be fainting soon. Probably. "U-u-um, r-r-rumors s-s-say that if you and s-someone wear all black, then you h-have to have...s-s-s-se - " She gasps and drops down on the floor, fainting before she finished speaking. But I pretty much have the idea.

_Kinky_.

Rogue is damn full of surprises today.

I head up the stairs to the third floor, where the senior classes are held, hands in my pockets. They're trembling. _Out of excitement_, I tell myself. Because I'm just curious to see his reaction. Yeah. I'm not exactly looking forward to getting beat though. The 405 room comes into view, and I slide the door open. All of the chairs are empty, save for one. I already know he's going to be here, because he's always the last to go home. Sleeping in class can do that to people.

So I walk over to his table, and he doesn't wake up, because he's a deep sleeper, snoring away. Standing over him, my palms flat on the table, on each side of his face-down head, I can only see the vibrant shade of flamingo hair torched alight, touched by the flare of the setting sun streaming through the wide windows. He breathes in and out, little snores accompanying each movement.

And the only thought running through my head is _he's so close._

I watch as he stirs, leaving a trail of drool on the wooden desk as he groggily rubs his eyes, which seem to be having trouble waking up. Then, he sees me, and instantly, a bright grin sifts over his lips. "Sting!"

"Yo, Natsu-san," I greet.

"What you doin' here?" he asks, looking around at the empty classroom. He stands up abruptly, and I move away just before he nearly collides into me. A panicked expression falls over his face. "Shit, shit, shit, I'm gonna be late to basketball! Erza's gonna kill me dead! Thanks, Sting, let's go before we get slaughtered by the evil demon reincarnate - "

I grab his arm before he bolts, and he turns to look back at me with confusion. "Practice is rescheduled to four-thirty," I tell him.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Yesssss!" He breaks out in all smiles, punching the air. Then, noticing my grasp on his shoulder, he calms down and asks, "Anything else I need to know? Maybe the district games being moved to today?" he suggests, an excited gleam in his wide brown eyes. "Or that I'm chosen to enter the Olympics?!"

"Your imagination is pretty wild, Natsu-san," I remark, smirking. "Plus, they're more likely to choose Laxus-senpai over you."

"WHAAAT! Damn that Laxus!" he exclaims, falling for the lie so easily that I can't help but think _cute_ -

Stop that, brain. And the other brain down there.

"So? What ya here for, Sting? Looking ta challenge me to a one-on-one?"

One-on-one? Yeah, I can think of several ways and things we can do one-on-one, including a bed, lube, candles -

Gritting my teeth to stop the flow of NSFW thoughts and smiling innocently is one pain in the ass thing to do, I find out. "Maybe later. You know what today is, Natsu-san?" I ask. Time to set the ball rolling.

"Uh. Friday?" he answers, obviously unsure.

I lean in, lowering my voice mysteriously, "Not just _any_ Friday."

"So what kind of Friday is it then?"

"It's National Pink Day," I declare.

"So?"

"You have pink hair."

"You just noticed?"

Undeterred, I continue on, "I have pink socks."

He glances down, sees the tips of my aforementioned pink socks peeking out under the grey uniform pants, and looks back up at me. "So?"

"Don't you know what happens when two people wearing the same color pink meet?" My grip on his shoulder tightens as I lean in, even closer now, with just an inch counting the space between our lips. I'm smirking, which I've been told is drop-dead-killer-sexy, and Natsu-san is looking like a mini rabbit about to get chased down by a tiger, AKA me.

He backs up a few steps, trips a little, and somehow ends up sitting on the edge of his desk. "W-what..."

I think quickly, and a reply comes to mind immediately. I can use them. I stare down at Natsu-san, my blue eyes looking into his wide brown ones, and a devious smirk crosses my lips. "The Matchmaking Club states that on National Pink Day, if two individuals with the same pink color on meet, they have to kiss on the lips." Must say, wow, am I impressed by myself. That's way ingenious. No loopholes or anything.

Natsu blinks. "So what does that have to do with me?"

I point at his head.

"What about my head?"

"Pink hair."

"And?"

I point at my socks. "Pink socks."

"Yeah." He nods. "National Pink Day. We're both pink!" he says, grinning as if he just solved a massive Calculus problem.

If there's one thing on top of "destructive" that Natsu-san is known for, it's "amazingly stupid." But what's it to me? He's my goal, and I aim to be like him, even _better_ than him. Not just that, I also aim to -

"Mmf, wut dhe hwell!"

- trap him on the seat of his desk, grab his chin, raise it up, and _kiss the fuck out of him_.

I'm pretty sure he got a punch in there, maybe a kick, during the make-out session, but it's all a blur. Somehow we end up from the desk to the window, and from the window to the storage closet in the classroom, in order to hide from a group of students walking past, and then we tumble back out, without letting go of each other for a second, and that's how we're on the floor, hair mussed, shirts unbuttoned, belts undone, panting, red skinned, with me on top, straddling Natsu-san.

His shirt's almost completely off, now, slightly tanned skin in view, lean muscles, hard abs, and grey pants that are dangerously on the risk of getting ripped off by my hands. I dive back down to capture his lips, and they automatically open. Our tongues clash in a tug-of-war, wet squishy noises, breathless moans, and all, probably rougher than a kiss has to be, probably hotter than boiling water, probably more electrifying than lightning, and most likely leading to a volcanic explosion in my underpants if we keep it up.

We part for air, him gasping, and me, I have my hands everywhere I can reach. All that pent-up tension has me riled up and crashing like the gate to a decade-old enclosed flood. And then we're back at it again, both of us moaning and grunting, and I'm damn sure he feels my hard-on pressed against his heaving abdomen.

"S-Sting..." he mumbles, one eye shut and the other peeking through, bare chest heaving up and down. I smirk, my hands making their way down his stomach to R-rated territory.

"What's up, Natsu-san?"

"How...do you expect me to let an underclassman top me?! We're switching!"

Too stunned to respond - I have no idea he even understood the term "top" -, our roles consequently reverse, and now I'm lying on my back, totally confused, with Natsu-san straddling me instead.

What...

* * *

"...And I got it back in the end, but it was a hard-won battle," I recall, biting into an apple the next day. Rogue sits next to me on the grass field, staring. I turn to look at him with a raised brow, munching on the fruity juices. "What."

Rogue lets the pointed question hang before saying, "Are you sure that was a retelling of your sexual encounter with Natsu-san? It sounded more like a war."

"Pfft."

"You said you had the advantage at first, but then Natsu-san came in and took your 'position.' Then, you unleashed your 'trap card' and recaptured your role as the 'top.'"

"Yeah," I agree, the sound muffled by a mouthful of apple bits. "Like I said, a hard-won battle. Felt amazing though. Came like three times. Natsu-san was fucking sexy and _tight_, you know. He's usually all tough and ready to fight - I like that - but he's mad adorable when he isn't tough and looking for a fight - and I _love_ that." I finish the apple, tossing the core effortlessly into the trashcan across our bench, leaning back against the wooden seat with my arms crossed behind my head, shirt lifting up exposing a sliver of toned abs. The girls on the opposite bench haven't stopped staring.

Rogue is quiet, probably mulling over my honest detailing of the hot, passionate sex from last night. I may not look it, but I'm not over the feeling of blissful perfection yet. What's it like to have the one you love in your arms at last? I just felt it yesterday. It's fucking amazing. But thinking about it anymore would just leave me with an uncomfortable hard-on, so I'm going to have to think about something else. Like, Rogue's National Black Day situation, for example.

"Right, so, what about you and Gajeel? You got it figured out yet?" I ask.

Rogue sighs.

I cock an eyebrow. Poor dude. Rogue's not overly confident like me, add antisocial to that list, and we've got an initiated-sex-never-going-to-happen scenario. Somehow, he's going to have to seduce that iron-obsessed with the equally antisocial personality into sexual intercourse. I have major qualms about that happening anytime soon.

"Sting, you said you ended up on top? Even though you're the underclassman?"

"Yeah." I smirk victoriously at him, canines bared. "I'm a natural. Bigger dick, know what I mean?"

"...Oh."

* * *

**Rori's Corner: **So, yeah, about that National Black Day...we'll just leave it to the imagination. And guys, I'm seriously disappointed at the lack of Sting/Natsu shiz in this fandomizzle. And the lack of Sting and Rogue in general. Q duh Q. So come on over and show me some StingTsu love (some Rogue and Gajeel too!) in the comments below.


End file.
